by Lexi Blake
Only one thing had changed.
“I told you. I don’t like you hiring investigators.”
“They’re not investigating anything except some of the crazies who’ve attached themselves to me. They know nothing about you at all and I intend to keep it that way. I haven’t done this for years to let this shit come out now.” It would ruin him in a way the actual crimes against him hadn’t. Letting everyone know how weak he’d been, how he’d been used and treated like trash.
“I’m not one of your crazies?”
This was the longest conversation he’d had with her in years. She typically got on, told him a location, and hung up. Something was wrong. Something had truly worried his always calm and cool blackmailer. “Not at all. Those people have mental illnesses. You’re evil.”
A throaty laugh came over the line. “Well, I should expect such drama from an actor. Evil? I’m a businesswoman and you’re an excellent source of income. Do you ever wonder how I came about my information?”
He stilled, not even the late afternoon sun warming him. A pit had opened in his stomach. He’d never been asked the question before, though he’d always, always known the answer. “I assume you know it all firsthand. Over the years I have wondered who you are, which house you worked in.”
A cold laugh came over the line. “You think I’m one of your pimps, Joshua? One of those sweet mommas who beat the shit out of you when you were bad and then tried to cover up the bruises so you would look good for the night? Or perhaps you think I was one of the women who purchased you, though I assume it was mostly men. No. It would surprise you to know that I’m younger than you.”
His heart constricted. Of all the scenarios he’d gone through, he hadn’t come up with this one. “Then you were…”
“No,” she said with a sigh. “I wasn’t one of the kids. Though I do know what it means to be in a prison not of my own making. You would be surprised how much we have in common. I found a way out, but it didn’t pay well. Not in cash. A smart person figures out how to turn assets into cash. You’re an asset, Joshua.”
“Who the hell are you?” He didn’t like the way his heart was pounding, his vision not as acute as it should be. A mist seemed to come over his eyes, the world tilting and turning.
Out of control. His control was nothing but an illusion. He fought so hard for it and it could be blown away with the slightest of winds.
“Isn’t that the question? The problem is if you find out, I’ll have to kill you, and that wouldn’t do either one of us any good,” she replied. “Make the drop. And I’m magnanimous. I get it. There are crazies out there. You need bodyguards, but not tomorrow night. Keep them out of our business and everything can go on the way it always has. But the second I find out someone’s sniffing around me or mine, I’ll do what I have to. You and yours should watch out. You know what I can do.”
The line went dead.
He stood there for a moment, utterly unable to move. Somehow he’d convinced himself that the blackmail was nothing more than the price of doing business. Everyone had secrets. God, in his business it really was everyone. No one wanted it to get out that they had a coke problem or weird sex fetish. Producers hid the fact that they fucked every starlet who wanted to be in their films, and actors pretended they hadn’t spent a little time on the casting couch, too.
Somehow it had become normal. Anything could be normal if you let it.
She watched him all the time. She knew his every move and she could take it all away.
His wealth, his success, it was all built on sand, and that woman was the tide who could wash it all away.
He hated her. Hated her with a violent rage he’d never felt before, and that was saying something since he’d killed a man when he was seventeen—his escape. He could still feel the man’s throat in his hands, see the way his eyes nearly popped out of his head. He’d known in that moment that if he didn’t get out, he would do this again and again and again. He would trade one horrible cage for a prison eventually.
He would love to kill that woman. To make it slow and painful.
“Josh, come on, man, give me a good shot.”
He barely heard the words through the haze of red floating in front of his eyes. He glanced over and there was a man walking into the alley from his left, his expensive camera pointed Josh’s way.
Fuck. Two minutes. He’d needed two fucking minutes alone. He needed to get back inside and then he could calm down. He would see if they had something stronger than champagne and he could get back into his role.
Indulgent Dom. That’s who he was right now.
Even though he was thinking about taking on the role of psychotic killer who needs to get his freak on.
“Please go away, man,” he said, his voice as bland as he could make it. “I need a little time.”
He tried the door, but it was locked. Damn it. He’d told the sales staff he would walk back around to the front of the store because he hadn’t wanted anyone to be able to listen in. He glanced to his right. There was a throng of people walking down the street, following someone who was speaking. They stopped at the edge of the alley, though they hadn’t looked down it yet. Some kind of tour. He didn’t need that.
“Give us a smile, Josh,” the man insisted. “Come on. One little smile. You always look sad. What do you have to be sad about? One smile and we can be done.”
Sure they would. No one would stop until they had their fill, got their strip of his hide. Everyone wanted something from him and they never, ever left until they were fucking satisfied. He might as well smile and get it over with. Grin and bear it. It’ll all be over with soon.
Except it never fucking ended.
Somehow he ended up turning and reaching for the man’s camera. It was in his hand before he actually understood what he was doing.
“What the fuck?” The man behind the camera was probably in his mid-fifties, his body showing signs of too much junk food and not a lot of exercise. His face went a florid red. “That’s mine.”
Josh tossed it against the side of the building. The camera came apart with a satisfying bang, its parts shattering and landing on the ground in pieces that would never fit back together again. That felt so fucking good. How much better would it feel to take the guy apart? He could see it plainly. He’d trained for this now that he thought about it. He’d trained in everything from Krav Maga to jujutsu to going through actual BUD/S training with a group of Navy SEALs. He could take a man apart without breathing heavy.
Take him apart. Bathe in his blood. Show that fucker a real smile. Yeah, he would be smiling at the end, and wasn’t that the best part? Everyone got what they wanted.
“Step back, Mr. Hunt.”
Declan Burke put his big body between him and his target.
“Get out of my way.”
Burke looked back at the photographer. “You need to run and fucking now.”
“But my camera,” the asshole complained.
“You’re about to look a whole lot like it,” Burke shot back. “Get the fuck out and next time I see you, I’ll let my boss here take you apart. Hell, next time I might help him.” He turned to Josh. “Calm the fuck down now. That tour group hasn’t noticed yet, but they will.”
“I don’t care.” He watched as the paparazzo ran out toward the street. Getting away.
Declan’s big body blocked the sight. “You think I don’t know that look? I know that look, man. I know it because I see it in the fucking mirror when I wake up.”
Maybe they would be well matched then. “You don’t know a fucking thing.”
“I know you feel out of control and deep down there’s this instinct inside you telling you how to get it back. It’s the alpha dog that lives in our guts. That alpha dog knows how to handle shit. He shows every single fucking yappy POS who the boss is. He bares his teeth and takes his hunk of flesh, and they either fall in line or they don’t get the fuck up again. Alpha dog doesn’t care. But man, the police do. Take a deep
breath or better yet, do the other thing that will help.”
His hands were shaking but Burke made sense.
“Go inside that store and find Kay.”
His breath hitched. Kayla, who was sweet and submissive during sex and who was absolutely the alpha female. “I’m on the edge.”
“And she can bring you back.” Burke seemed to relax a bit. “At least that’s what she tells me. I think she cares about you and wouldn’t want you to hurt someone else.”
“And if I hurt her?”
“You won’t if you’re the Dom you say you are.” Burke took a step back. “Or we can go get a drink, but first off I’m going to get rid of that camera. When the cops show up, you can decide how to handle it, but they won’t have any evidence against you.”
“Keep them out of the dressing rooms until I’m done.” He heard the words come out of his mouth but his mind was already on her.
Yes, she was exactly what he fucking needed.
Chapter Eight
Kayla looked at herself in the gorgeous lace-pleated chiffon evening gown. An elegant velvet belt cinched her waist in, the deep V of the bodice showing off her golden skin. The color was what drew her to the floor-length gown. It was a lovely ocean blue. The long skirt of the gown and slightly lighter lace panels made her think of waves as she moved.
“It’s stunning,” one of the saleswomen said, shaking her head as though she’d never quite seen anything like it.
“So beautiful. That is from our fall line. Straight off the runway,” another commented. “Everyone will be talking about this gown. It’s perfect for red-carpet events.”
Or private formal events. Josh had told her his friend liked to dress for dinner and she would need several formal gowns. She’d found a couple, but nothing that suited her the way this one did. This was the one. This was the one she would be wearing on the night she completed her operation. There would be a big party to celebrate Josh and she would sneak away, find the Commander’s office and get the intelligence she needed, and look perfectly stylish while she did it.
“We need a private dressing room.”
Her whole body went still because she knew that voice. Deep, dark, with the edge of a growl. Predatory.
Her Dom was in the house.
Around her, the saleswomen were fluttering as though they suddenly found themselves sharing tight space with a hungry tiger.
Kayla caught his stare in the three-paneled mirror she stood in front of. His eyes were dark, his jaw tight. And was that a bit of blood on his fist? Her first thought was to run to him, see where he was hurt, try to baby him.
That was not what he needed. Not even close.
A thrill went through her system. A totally selfish thrill. Josh was on edge and this was one of the ways he brought himself back. Something had happened and he likely wouldn’t talk about it. At least he wouldn’t until he’d regained control. If she refused him, he would probably walk away, find a gym and punish his body until he passed out.
Or he could punish hers. Punishing her body ended in her screaming out his name when she came, so she knew which path she was voting for.
Either way, she was going to let him make the decision, let him take control. This was the time when he needed her submission the most. He didn’t need it in the real world. He needed a partner there, and she rather thought he’d been surprised by how well they worked together. He asked her opinion, followed it most of the time, allowed her to take the lead when it came to security.
But when he got that look in his eyes, she knew the time had come to give him the other piece of herself—the part that submitted to the right Master.
Her body was still, but she could feel a ripple of pure arousal start to flow. He stared at her in the mirror, their eyes locking in understanding.
He needed what only she could give him.
Yep, that did it for her.
“Private?” one of the salespeople asked, as though she’d forgotten the definition of the word.
Josh’s eyes never left hers, holding still as though neither would move again until they were alone and could find their proper roles. “Kayla, have you decided on that gown?”
She shook her head. “I think I need a couple of minutes to decide, but they could start preparing the rest of the order. It should take them a while because I’m going to want it all.”
A little gasp left the sales staff as though they’d collectively realized what that meant. Money. Lots of commission. Enough that they could let go of any prudish ideas rattling around in their heads.
The lead saleswoman was suddenly all solicitous concern. “This whole section of the store can be made private. For bridal and formal wear, of course. You need a lot of space for gowns like these. I’ll pull these curtains down, tie them together, and you’ll have your own private space. Please take all the time you need to decide. We’ll handle everything else.”
One of the younger women’s eyes widened. “But I think he means to…”
The lead put her perfectly manicured hand up. “Appreciate how beautiful this dress is and very likely decide to purchase it along with all the others? Yes, I think that’s what he’s going to do, too. Chrissy, why don’t you go and turn up the music? It’s far too low. We don’t want it to sound like a tomb in here after all.”
That was an experienced salesperson.
The heavy velvet curtains dropped and she found herself alone with him. The question was which Josh was she about to get? He liked to play roles. She’d watched him do it. There was the private Josh and the one who showed up a party, the all-business Josh and the one who built walls faster than anyone she’d seen before.
But this one? Hungry Dom.
Was Hungry Dom also Hurt Dom?
“Josh? What happened?”
He shook his head. “Take off the dress if you want to keep it. I don’t care either way.”
He would pay for it even if he left it in tatters on the floor, but he was going to have her naked one way or another. She got that message loud and clear. Luckily it was a fairly easy dress to get out of. Flowy was always easier than tight. She turned to watch him as she undid the belt at her waist and then eased the bodice down. No bra. No way she could hide the fact that her nipples were tightly peaked and he hadn’t put a hand on her yet.
“I’m serious, Kayla. Get rid of the dress. This is a dungeon now. I told you when you signed that contract that I would have you when I wanted and where I wanted. When I wanted and how I wanted.”
Yes, his want was perfectly clear to her. His want was need, and that made everything different. She shoved the dress down and laid it over one of the chairs left behind in the space. She pushed the thong she wore over her hips, placed it with the dress, and then turned back to him. He hadn’t mentioned the shoes and likely wouldn’t, so she crossed the space between them, her sky-high Yves Saint Laurents making no sound on the carpet before she sank down in front of him. Knees wide, palms up, head bowed.
“How can I serve you, Joshua?”
He was silent for a moment and she watched his boots. They didn’t make a move. He was tightly coiled and she waited for him to go off. “Just like that?”
“Yes. No questions asked. No need to talk unless you want to. You need my submission and it’s yours.”
A hand touched her head and then she felt his fingers sink in, twisting lightly at first. “I wonder if you mean that.”
“I do.”
He kept twisting and pain flared along her scalp. A bite, nothing more, and then he was petting her again. Then another, longer twist, a harder bite that had her gasping and biting back a moan. “Will you mean it when I’m rougher than I’ve ever been? Will you mean it when you realize everyone in this store is listening to what I do to you?”
“Haven’t you figured out that I don’t care what other people think? Not about this. Not about much. I find people who care about me no matter what and I try to stick close to them. Are you going to hurt me?”
�
��Yes.”
“Thank god.” Her body relaxed and then tensed again as he forced her head back.
“I hope you mean that.” He leaned over. So close she could almost feel his lips on hers, knew she was about to get what she wanted.
And then moved away. Yeah, that part sucked. The spankings and canings and that part where he pinched her nipples right before licking them was awesome, but the no kissing was starting to rankle.
One more wall she couldn’t climb.
He stopped and his hand fell away. “I’m on the edge. I went out to take a call and a fucking photographer showed up.”
She could handle that. “Do you want me to kill him? I have a really slender knife with me. One good poke through the right ribs and up into his heart and he won’t even bleed too much. I can leave him in a nice alley and it could be days before someone thinks he’s not just sleeping it off.”
He stopped for a moment and he had that look on his face—the one lots of people got when she talked. It was that “what did you say?” look. “You’re not joking. Sometimes I have to remind myself that you’re not joking.”
Sometimes she was. This time she wasn’t. “No. If he’s out there, I’ll take care of it.”
Something seemed to ease inside him, his shoulders coming down the barest notch. “Take care of me instead. Stand up and go over to the chair. I want you to bend over. This discipline isn’t about anything you’ve done wrong. It’s not to correct a behavior or to instill a lesson. This discipline is about me. I need to spank your ass until it’s red and know you like it. I need to put a mark on you and know you accept it. If you don’t want that or it scares you, I’ll find another way.”
She couldn’t help it. Her eyes rolled. She’d loved to say they kind of did that on their own, but the idea that a spanking scared her made her bratty side come out.
“What did you just do?” That hand was back in her hair, twisting viciously this time, forcing her to look him in the eyes. This time, the pain sizzled along her scalp, lighting it up. “Did you roll your eyes at me when I was kindly explaining what the parameters of the scene were?”
